On Surrender (Easter 2013)

I’ve always been involved in church Easter productions. It has run the gamut from being part of backstage operations dressing the cast in their costumes or lighting the stage, or being part of the worship band, or arranging the Sunday decor.

This time it’s quiet. I haven’t been appointed, or rostered, or asked to help or stand-in in any way. I will show up in church like it’s just another Sunday, no early rush, no prep, no anxiety.

Easter can never be just another Sunday. I embarked on a journey which started on Ash Wednesday some 40 days ago (you can read about it here) and today I get off the Lenten train.

What Lenten lessons did I learn?

True surrender, if we’re serious and honest about what we want to turn over to God, hurts. Being serious about what we want to give up (be it in the head or heart or hand) takes determination. The severity of determination required will reveal how addicted one is to this thing to be surrendered. Surrendering becomes an act of will that is literally minute-by-minute, if we determine to emerge clean and most importantly, free.

Surrendering hurts. Amidst the hurting, amidst the wrestling that goes on between the whispering angel and the little devil at your ear, there God is. In worship He resides. So always, always, always listen to that still, small voice you hear in your head. The one you keep doubting is real. Trust me, it’s real. It’s the voice of truth.

God knows when you’re hurting and when one resolves to find solace in personal worship, to not get lured off the sacrificial altar into the arms of habit, God is there.

Everything is going to be ok, He has said to me on more than one occasion. God spoke on the phone to me via the voice of a friend, through accidental collisions with people significant in my life, and through the presence of trusted people who care.